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Most of you don’t know this, but I have a sister. She goes by the name Ariel Hannah Gordon.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that stallion depicted above is my sister. No, we don’t have the same parents, and no, we share no blood–but we share drinks, and that’s what makes us sisters.

I’ve known Ariel for thirteen years, which is nearly 3 quarters of my life so far. Bubbalish and I grew real close when her family moved in right next door to mine. All of the sudden we could get to each others houses by crawling through a hole in the fence between our backyards! And so it began… We played Mario on Nintendo 64 after school every day, ate grapes and goldfish, invented and popularized the armless-hug, I weigh-trained in her dining room (how do you think I got to be the strongest kid in the grade?) and, most importantly, we determined that it was OK to sip from the same glass because we are, in fact, “sisters”.

Ariel, the soccerfreak2011, an extremely talented photographer, my manager, a gentleman, a scholar, and the best-dressed kid I know; I’m lucky to have you as a best friend–even if our relationship is solely based on you making all the normal things I do seem weird.

This goes out to my main man, my better half, the one, the ONLY, Silly Bonjour.

I have known Andrew since before birth–not something many people can say– and, needless to say, we are le best of friends. If you don’t know Andrew I feel really bad for you. He’s the illest. Last night he got a letter in the mail confirming his acceptance to Colorado College, da school of his dreams, and I COULD NOT BE MORE PROUD OF HIM. It was bittersweet though, because that means he’s heading clear across the country (4 hour plane ride!!??) and as of fall 2011 I will only be seeing him for brief periods of time a few times a year. The only times we’ve ever been apart were over the past few summers and it was only a few weeks at a time at MOST. So it’s gonna be really weird.. I’m gonna MISS you, Belch/Silly Bondres/Bonja du Jour/Jaques/Bulge.

This post is about a lovely lady who goes by the name of Sara Kotcher. At first, we were merely awkward acquaintances — we said “what up” at Bar/Bat Mitzvas, smiled at each other in passing, the normal things. But then, by a spectacular twist of fate, Sara Kotcher wound up in a desk right next to mine in Mr. Hipkens’ 9th grade Bio class.

Then, shit got real. Shit got REALLY real.

From then on, we’ve maintained a friendship for the history books. We’ve been through all the ups and downs together, good times and bad. We met Gavin DeGraw together and determined what it means to be a crackkaa. One could even say we were kindred spirits.

At this moment, Sara Kotcher, Skotch, Kotch, Rack-o-ribs, AZN Cuisine, is sitting right next to me keeping me company. We’re eating Pete’s Pizza (best pizza in the world) and Tate’s Chocolate-Chip cookies (best packaged cookies in the world) sitting on my bed (most comfortable bed in the world) with my brother, Andrew (best twin in the world) in New York City (greatest city in the world). Life is good.

The first time I had Levain Cookies was this past August on my 18th birthday. My friend Carolyn brought a fresh box over as a birthday gift. Levain, on 74th and Amsterdam, is home of some of the most delicious cookies I have ever tasted. They only have four flavors and my personal favorite, chocolate-chip walnut, looks like this: